


The Oak and The Flame

by RoeURBoat, wrathofdemacia



Category: The Musketeers (2014), Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Abuse, Action/Adventure, Aes Sedai, Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Cannon, Angst, Anxiety, Art, Blood, Cannon related, Cannon universe, Character Study, Children, Comfort, Compulsion, Confessions, Consent, Crimes & Criminals, Crushes, Crying, Dark, Dating, Death, Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, Drugs, Falling In Love, Family, Fantasy, Feelings, Feels, Female Characters, Fights, Firsts, Flashbacks, Flirting, Fools in Love, Friendship, Getting Together, Harm to Children, Hatred, Historical, Horror, Humor, Hurt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Intoxication, Introspection, Issues, I’m sorry, Jealousy, Kissing, LGBTQ Themes, Loss, Love, Manipulation, Memory Related, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Multi, Music, Mystery, Non-Consensual, Original Character(s), Panic, Pining, Plot, Porn, Possessive Behavior, Post-Series, Protectiveness, Relationship(s), Robert Jordan, Romance, Roughness, Sad, Secrets, Self-Esteem, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Smut, Soulmates, Spoilers, Substance Abuse, Suicide, Supernatural Elements, Tension, Torture, Tragedy, Trauma, Violence, Wheel Weaves and the Wheel Wills, asha'man, post-cannon, wheel of time - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:53:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29969409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoeURBoat/pseuds/RoeURBoat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrathofdemacia/pseuds/wrathofdemacia
Summary: "Jethari painted herself silver so as to entice this Warlord pretending to be Salya of the stars...” he paused, “stop me if you know the story?”Siendha shook her head amused, leaning her elbows to the table, resting her chin on her hands. "Keep going."Arran folded his hands in his lap, fingers laced together.“She was to distract the War Lord so that Varuan could sneak up on him and kill him. The story goes that... well Varuan did arrive but was so struck by the beauty of Jethari painted silver himself that he paused to admire her and the War Lord noticed him. Jethari so took it upon herself and slew the War Lord, before either man could do anything,” he smiled fondly tapping his thumbs against each other, “Varuan thanked her for saving him and called himself a fool and she,” he cleared his throat, meeting her eyes “loved him for it.”Updates Every Wednesday & Saturday
Relationships: Arran&Siendha, Colelle&Artanan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

**_When the World Broke_ **

The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. 

Legend fades to myth, and even myth is forgotten when the age that gave it birth comes again. 

In one age, called the fourth age by some, an age yet to come, and an age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Dhoom. 

The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the wheel of time. But it was a beginning…

The World had broken again, and yet was still whole. The lands did not quake and shift; the mountains rise or fall, the oceans move or dry, the changes were less in what one could see when looking at a map and more in the souls of the people that walked the Westlands and beyond. 

A heavy toll Tarmon Gaidon had taken on the people of many nations throughout the world. Alliances built and dissolved, nations that had stood for centuries vanished into the newly established lands of New Seandar on the continent of the Westlands. 

The War with the Shai’tan was won… so they said, but the Shadow was not the only evil that touched the lands, waters, and skies of this world.

An era of evil had been eradicated before it had begun, some remnants remained and the world would need time to heal and repair from the corruption left behind. People would need time to find new homes from those lost.

The lands had not changed, but the faces of the people had, the lines on maps redrawn, old alliances crumbled, new ones were forged, and the rise of the era of the evil of man sans the shadow began. 

~~~~~~

He handed Mama the bloody, torn and burned tabard, the man in the Black Coat. The man put his fist over his heart in a salute that he was no familiar with. Da had taught him the Companion salutes of course but it was more elaborate than that.

The man bowed a head to Blaes and with another step stood in front of the little boy, well no so little! He was already taller than most of the boys on this side of the Canals! The man put in his hand, his fathers sheathed blade and it was almost as tall as him. 

The point of the sheath stuck in the dirt and he held the crossbar to keep the rest of it off the stone and mud courtyard in front of his home.

Blaes pale face, like their Mama’s with her cream colored skin, was turning red and blotchy. Big fat tears welled in her eyes, no unlike that time she had stepped on a shell and broke it, it had cut up the bottom of her foot. She must have been in a lot of pain now how twisted and screwed up her face was. 

He gripped it white knuckled, there was much happening he did no understand. War… a word that’s meaning was lost on him, no that anyone was eager to explain. All he really understood was that it meant Papa had to leave, and now meant he would never come home. That he fell asleep hungry more often than no. It meant that dark circles grew slowly but steadily under his mother’s eyes, that her face had become more hollow, and that she barely spoke or heard him when he did. It meant that Blaes cried or screamed at Mama all the time. 

He wasn’t sure he remembered what it was like before the War, but he knew it had been different… at least in some ways. 

One of the few things he did understand, death. That was no a concept that eluded him anymore. He had seen it enough now. 

“Your Father died with honor, he served the Lord Dragon until his last breath.” The man said to him but let his eyes sweep over the rest. 

Blaes’ hand gripped Arran’s shoulder, and her splotchy face screwed up more,

“Do it make it better if he die in the Service of the Dragon?” Blaes screamed at the man, “They do be saying we won,” she snarled with all the ferocity of a cornered docks rat and spit at the man's feet, “No proof I see we won anything at all!” Then whirled running back into the house.

Mama looked blankly at the bloody cloth in her hands she curtsied wobbily and followed Blaes inside. 

He had no been dismissed and he could no just walk away from the man whose face while calm held subtle lines of a deep weariness and sadness Arran could no yet understand. The black coated man looked back to him from his departing Mama and sister. He gave Arran a wan smile,

“I see strength in you little one, come to the Black Tower when you are big enough to hold that sword steady.” 

Then he tousled Arran’s hair and stood and gave Arran a salute.

Arran tried to do the same as Papa had taught him, difficult when holding a sword almost the size as your person.

When he managed to look up again from his attempt he stood alone in the yard with all that was left of his father. 

~~~~~~~

She was only nine when it all happened, or not.

She was in her bedroom, white sheets of her bed curled up under her small feet, arms hugging the pillow, heart racing in her ears, each breath she took left her lips shaking. Between one or two breaths the same words were leaving her mouth.

"Mama, papa."

Her eyes traced the small flame in the corner of the room, dancing like the table was nothing but a wick. The flame followed down the cracks on the desk and left a path of fire behind. The path widened, raged, and made its way to the nude curtains, painting them black as it went. 

The closer it came, the bigger it became as if it was going to swallow her. With her scream, another voice echoed in her ears. 

"Siendha! Baby!" Her father's voice from the hallway encouraged her to get to the door. "Siendha!"

"I'm here papa!" She attempted to move but as if the flames waited for that tiny movement they raged over the door. 

"Stay where you are, baby, cover your mouth with a cloth, I will get you out of there!" His voice was closer than ever. If her father said so, then it was true. Even the smallest promises he gave her, he kept. Like that one time, she asked for toasted bread with raspberry jam and cheese. He told her that he will get it for her as soon as they arrive home, and that was the first thing he did when they got home.

She pulled the sheet to her mouth and tried to breathe through. The woods on the ceiling started to bend down slowly, a stack fell to the carpet, with the order broken the rest of the ceiling started shaking.

Her eyes traced the room from one part to another. Everything was slowly decaying. 

Her carved wooden soldiers were now ashes, there was no one left to protect Malkier. Her books had fallen from the shelves; they were becoming friends of the darkness who encouraged the fire to rise.

Bang!

Her father slammed the door with his body. The wooden door fell down on top of the flaming carpet. She opened her arms as her father reached her in three steps.

"Here, my little flame." She wrapped her arms around his neck. He shielded her from the fire and covered her body in his arms with his cloak. From there on the nightmare was black.

"I didn't mean to do this. I was only warming the soldiers." She cried on his chest. It was hard to recall when it became so big, or how it spread all the way to the other rooms without moving anywhere in her’s first.

"No my little one, this is not your fault." She was shaking in his arms as he tried to get them out of the house. By the sound of their steps, she could guess they were in the hallway now. One step, two step, she heard an odd acidic sound around the raging flames. She shivered as the sound dominated the destruction of the walls. Three steps, four steps, they fell down. The warmth of fire brushed her outside the cloak, she had never been this close to such strength of flames. Something in her pumped, it trembled and bounced within her ribcage like a ball, changing, becoming. She felt an urge to reach for it, if she took it out, if she let it scream it would all be fine. It only wanted to be free, only wanted to hold, seize, embrace, grasp. 

"Rhinan!" She heard her mother call.

"Take her away Falle! Take her away!" She felt her body being pushed away from her father’s arms, she tried to reach back but the cloak was tight around her little bones. She felt her mother’s hands around her arms, there she only had a second to see what was outside.

There were dark figures in the hallway. Almost like shadows rising all the way up to the ceiling. In front of their living room’s door, kitchen, bedroom, or not.

There was blood in her father's mouth and a wound on his right arm, or not. Maybe this was just a nightmare and she was going to wake up, or not. It was all a made-up story she told to get people's attention, or not. This was the millionth time she saw the same vision.

"I'm the daughter of Rhinan Lothaidhrin, a blacksmith, a father, a husband, a Malkieri." She started to repeat to herself. Her mother closed her head under _her_ cloak this time.

"I'm the daughter of Falle Tharmond, a scholar, a mother, a wife, an Andoran." She wasn't sure if they managed to take four or six steps towards the door, yet her mother also fell down. When Siendha’s head hit the ground, she felt the cloak’s fabric along with the roughness of the wood. The last thing she remembered was her mother screaming.

"Run Siendha!" She was a good girl. She would always listen to her parents. Nothing they ever said proved to be wrong before. It always benefited her, made her a happy child. 

She stood up and ran with the huge cloak blocking her view.

She didn't know where she was going but eventually the arms that wrapped her, she didn't know would be her biggest prison.

"Run Siendha!" She heard behind her one last time.


	2. Frostbite

**Chapter One:**

**_Frostbite_ **

"Wake up Siendha!" A push and a pinch.

"Mmh."

"Wake up you lazy little chit!" Her cousin poured a whole bucket of water over her head. She stood up in the bed, her nose and eyes burning with the unexpected rush of liquid. 

And just like that, her every day started.

Wash the clothes, put them back up, cook breakfast with her aunt then go to school to learn things she already knew.

According to her aunt, her mother died in childbirth. Her father never cared about them so she took Siendha into her care and brought her back to Andor where she belonged.

Her aunt Karla always found Malkieri barbaric and obsessive. She always blamed Siendha's father for every bad thing that happened in the world. If their chicken was eaten by a dog it was Rhinan's fault. If the clouds shaded the laundry it was him that did it. At least her husband was somewhat a decent man. Or so she used to think, ignorance was as much a fault as doing the deed.

"You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.." He would always say. He would not care when she cried in her room neither he shouted at her for the mistakes she is not at fault for.

His wife, her aunt; Karla seemed very normal to everyone. She was a very pretty woman who married a moderately rich man. They had a son and a daughter older than Siendha. They annoyed her as much as a sibling would but there was definitely a hierarchy in the house where Siendha was at the bottom of. 

"She was again murmuring mama and papa." Eldrik laughed as he ran a circle around Siendha.

"Shut it!" She growled.

"Were you Siendha?" Her aunt asked. The voices silenced, the sound of leaves moving outside turned grim, the sun hid its face. She walked towards her. "You are almost 18 now. And you still play your old games."

"They are not games," she said faintly looking down at her hands.

"Stop lying to people around you. Especially to yourself. That fire and the dark shapes are all nonsense. There is no way you can have a memory of your mother."

She felt anger boiling in her veins.

"It's enough Aunt Karla." She tried to walk past her but she held her wrist.

"With lies as such, one day they will put you in an asylum."

She saw fire. A flame in front of her eye, heat on the tip of her fingers, and violence pumping in her ribs. 

"Lies or not, if you allow me to travel to Tar Valon—" she pushed her hand harshly. 

"I will not send you to the home of witches."

"Mother, someone will hear you, don't say such things." Her cousin barged in. If a soldier was passing by the window or Light forbade an Aes Sedai, their reputation would be ruined with such words. People of Whitebridge were very fond of the Aes Sedai. Maybe their neighborhood had a certain stand against them but that didn't change the fact that they were still keeping their mouth shut when a soldier passed by.

"Go to your school now Siendha. And don't ever mention that bloody place again." 

~~~~~~

The same nightmare, the same morning, the same chores, the same faces: the end of the day came. The cake she was baking let out a smell that brought her cousin to the kitchen.

"Endha! Are you baking the cake?" Siendha looked over her shoulder and grinned at her cousin’s ecstatic face. 

"Yes, it will be ready in ten minutes." Fayre jumped from right to left running around the table. 

She suddenly heard a click.

"Ssh!" Siendha hushed her. She tried to find where it came from, it sounded like a glass crack. Her eyes immediately ran to the dishes in the corner, if one cracked, her aunt would be so angry at her. She walked towards them to check, her hands shaking. 

**_Click._ **

It was coming from the window on top of the sink.

Flame in her eyes, warmth on her fingers she rushed to the window.

"What is it?" Siendha pushed Fayre back. 

"You keep an eye on the cake okay? I will be right back." She rushed outside.

The house they lived in was surrounded by long trees. In their back and front yard, there were vegetables they grew and lots of clothes hanging from one tree to another.

There was no one outside that she could see. It was dark anyway, the rocks under her feet were lit by the light coming from the window of the kitchen. She closed her eyes. She had to trust her instincts. She felt the air around her shifting slowly. There was something there. Something so liquid or so thick, like butter or lava. 

_ "Madness becomes you Siendha." _

She felt chills down her spine. Her breath became visible on a clearly warm spring night. The voice came from the south, it sounded familiar.

She turned around herself and opened her eyes.

_ "Come home Siendha. We are waiting for you." _ This time the voice came slightly from the west. She was looking at the house now. There was light yet no one visible.

She had to be careful, whatever this was, she knew it knew her.

_ "Your papa is waiting for you." _

**_East._ **

_ "Your mama is waiting for you." _

**_North._ **

_ "We are all waiting for you Siendha." _

She squeezed her fists trying to gather all the heat she could get. But it was so cold that even the flame in her mind was gone. 

"Who are you?"

_ "That does not matter," _ The voice suddenly came from inside the house. She ran to the kitchen window. Fayre was sitting on the table with a fork in her hand as a weapon,  _ "What matters is what I will do." _ A shadow rose behind Fayre.

Siendha ran to the kitchen door, she hit her toe to the corner of the column which led her to reach there later than she expected. Finally, she was right in front of Fayre.

"Fay, don't move." Her voice shook. She pulled herself together. If this wasn't real then there was no danger. And if there is no danger, no reason to panic.

"Endha!" Fayre was trembling, her teeth hitting each other. Was she also feeling the cold?

The flames…

She called the flames.

She imagined it melting the ice and breaking free in her mind.

The first try, failed.

_ "Come Siendha." _ The shadow grew taller.

The second try failed.

"Endha is there someone behind me?" Fayre's teeth were hitting each other, sweats of fear dripping from her forehead she cried.

"Please," Siendha begged, she was afraid now.

"No, I hate it when they beg." His voice echoed in the room as the shadow reached the ceiling.

_ Don't fight it, embrace it! You are scared, be scared.  _ **_Surrender to yourself._ **

She tried one last time.

**_Darkness._ **

When she opened her eyes. She saw the familiar leaking ceiling of her bedroom. Apparently when one faints and wakes up the first couple of thoughts that came to their mind were the plainest ones.

She was thinking how nice of it was that she stayed in a separate room while her cousins shared the same one. It was probably because of her might-just-burn-the-house-down attitude at nights. She thought of the spider on the corner of the wall. She took them out of the house at least 10 times yet they kept coming.

_ Fayre! _

Fear crumbled in her stomach turning it upside down. She rushed out of her bed.

"Fayre!"

"Stop shouting Siendha, light!" Her aunt Karla was standing on the door frame. She had that crease on her forehead, the straight line that still managed to scare her to death. The last time she saw the crease, she was thirteen and it was because she talked back to her next to her friends. Her aunt took her nettle and whipped her thirteen times that night, when she woke up in the morning half of her hair was cut down.

Of course, that crease was just  _ one of  _ the indicators her aunt was angry with her.

Fayre was sitting in the corner looking at her with guilt all over her face.

"Are you okay?" Siendha asked, her voice shook again.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She scolded.

"Because you were there, you know what happened Fay!" She flashed. Karla held her ear and walked her to the kitchen.

"Tell me you lunatic, what happened here huh?"

The kitchen was a mess, all the glass was shattered, windows were broken, the curtains were ripped and the couch was destroyed.

Terror filled her lungs.

"I didn't do this." She could only whisper.

Tears blurred her vision.

It was happening again. The nightmares were happening again.

"Tell me!" Karla shouted.

"I was baking and then something hit the windows. I went out to check then heard someone inside. I came back inside, it was cold like the heart of winter." She had hiccoughs the whole time she was talking.

"Fayre you were shaking. Tell her you felt it. There was someone behind her Aunt Karla. I swear to you."

She looked at Fayre begging for help. Her eyes trembled between her mother and Siendha for a moment.

"No, I was just in my room. And when I came back the kitchen was like this."

Her chest cramped with her words. Tears rushed to her eyes so fast that her vision went completely blurry in a second. 

"You are lying." She shouted, her hands quickly wiped the tears, she blinked a couple of times to see her face clearly.

"No, I don't." Fayre’s voice cracked. It was all over her face, Siendha was so sure that what happened was real now. Fayre could never lie.

With the lack of help from her, she turned and started to look around desperate for evidence. And there it was, the cake she baked was outside. Fayre would always get out of her room when Siendha baked that cake.

"Fayre, leave us alone darling," Karla said softly.

"How about the cake? You got out of your room when there were 5 minutes left for it to be done!" She shouted behind her. But her words were cut with a slap from her aunt.

"I'm so sick of your crazy daydreams. Your flames and your wicked plans."

"Aunt Karla I swear to you, I haven't done this!"

"Clean all of this. Eldrik is getting married and when he comes home tomorrow morning I want everything squeaky clean."

Something did all of this, even if it was her, how could she unsee this. Karla knew so well that her daughter was obsessed with the cake and there would be no way for her to stay in her room when Siendha made it. 

"I will punish you after we are done with the preparations." She looked at her for a long moment, Karla knew she was telling the truth. Or else she would behave much harsher. Her eyes following her, Karla turned around and left the room.

What was this thing? How were they not scared? Why would Fayre lie about it?

Or was it really her?

Was it really just a... nightmare?

_ "Siendha." _ The voice whispered disembodied. She felt cold rushing to her skin as if someone opened the door of a warm house in the middle all of the winter. Her hands moved up and down rubbing her arms, trying to warm herself. Suddenly her arms started to feel numb, or were they gone?

She looked down at her hands, it wasn't her who rubbed her arms. There were two hands holding her gently, they were black as ink, with each movement the hands left behind a trail of smoke and dust. As if they were breaking apart.

_ "Don't you want power Siendha? We can give you that." _

Her whole vision changed yet the touch was still there.

"Don't touch me." Her voice shook. It was becoming harder to breathe with every minute.

_ "You will beg me for it. _ " She tried her best to break free. Embrace Saidar, call her flame, or wake up. Nothing seemed to be working.

Her vision was distorting slowly, the counter bending down as if it was a cheese to be melted, the table dripping to the floor while chairs stretched up all the way to the ceiling. They lost their shapes to be changed into things completely different. 

It was misty, humid, and suffocating where she was. There were trees on her left and right and a long bridge in front of her.

She felt water on her feet, it rose all the way to her waist.

_ "You know where you belong." _

The hands kept on moving on her arms.

"Take your hands off of me!" Her voice came out louder than she expected. The hands disappeared and with that, she felt mobile again, she turned around to see if anyone was there.

The dark figure, it was more like a man now than just a long blur of darkness.

She woke up. In her bed. She quickly let her legs out of the bed and started to breathe heavily. She looked around in the room. Everything looked the way it was supposed to be. Her stomach turned upside down once again, her hands shaking, head turning, she walked to the kitchen. 

Everything was fixed. The shattered glass was in the corner ready to be taken out. The windows were wrapped closed with see-through fabric, the table was clean, the cabinets were closed and fixed. 

She fell down to her knees and leaned her head back at the pillar looking at the room in front of her. 

_ I’m not mad. _

_ It's just a nightmare. _

  
  
  



	3. Unfolding the Fan

**Chapter Two:**

**_Unfolding the Fan_ **

Blaes shushed him silently, a finger pressed to her lips. She tried very hard to not look afraid but she was shaking. It had been a mistake taking her with him. She was no thief. They crouched, jammed inside a crate they had pried open earlier. It was impossible to understand these Dha’nen hadzi as his sister called them. The slurring of their words, as if each word oozed into the next was so hard to pin down. Blaes closed her eyes, shaking with fear, if they found them here they would be taken as slaves, they would most likely never see each other again. 

There was scuffing of boots as the Seanchan soldiers moved on with their watch. Arran moved to creep out of the crate to take a peek.

“You’ll no go out there!” She hissed at him grabbing the back of his threadbare shirt. 

“I’m just checking, I’ll no spend a night in a crate Blaes.” He whispered back, jerking his shirt free. 

He crawled out into the open space between the piles of crates they were in, getting down on his belly he shimmied across the ground between two crates and peaked out on to the docks. There was no one there now, creeping back he peeked in.

Blaes was exactly how he left her; crouched, shaking, hands clasped over her mouth to muffle the sound of her teeth chattering whether from fear or the chill of Illain winter he could not say.

“There no be anyone, come on.” He got off his stomach and crouched low to the ground. 

She crept out of the crate slowly her muscles must have been painfully cramped from being stuck crouched like that for so long. He reached in and grabbed the bag of supplies they had been collecting when they had been trapped here and slowly slung it over his neck across his back. Cramped as she probably was, she still scurried like a rat through the pile of crates, just as he did. Till they got to the last shred of cover and then prepared themselves to run. 

Under his breath, Arran counted 1… 2… 3…

They took off like their lives depended on it, because they did. 

~~~~~~

Arran was aware he was being watched, he could sense the other man, the power of Saidin behind him on the Captains walkway that overlooked the yard. He ignored it and with a whirl of his wrist flourished his Father’s sword. 

The man opposite was sweating, it was a humid day in Illian as usual, but they had also been practicing in rotating pairs all morning. Arran slid from the _ Leaf Floating on the Breeze _ into  _ the Rose Unfolds _ , holding his arms up seemingly welcoming the other man's charge. 

The less experienced man charged, he sidestepped and whacked the lunging sword arm with the flat of his blade. With a cry the man stumbled, he turned with him as he stumbled past. The potential new Companion spun from his fumble and tried to swipe at his thighs in a poor man's  _ Tower of Morning _ . Arran responded with  _ Stone Falls from the Mountain _ , taking a quick step back and twisting as the man lunged past him to where he had been. Arran landed a blow with the pommel of his rapier between his shoulder blades, knocking the young man to the ground face first.

“Alright, that’s enough.” The Captain yelled from the walkway where he had been watching. 

Startled, as short as it had been he had thrust himself into the emptiness,  _ the void _ and the Captain's shout startled him into realizing and he let it go. 

Arran looked up to see the other man he had felt earlier. A somewhat severe looking man who could have been anywhere from his late twenties to his forties, an Aes Sedai. Arran  _ Folded the Fan _ , sliding his Father's sword back into the scabbard. 

“Go wash up or the women won’t have you at the midday meal.” The Captain shouted. 

Arran could feel the force of the Aes Sedai’s will reaching out towards him, he looked directly up at the man, and saw just an ever so slight widening of the man’s eyes as he felt his own will echo back to him. He looked down shaking his head, ...and so it began. 

He turned and walked towards the barrack, the Aes Sedai would come and find him soon. 

He didn’t bother with the Mess Hall, he felt too much unease to eat. He had the sense of a storm, change was coming. He  _ Unfolded the Fan _ and slipped into  _ Heron Wading in the Rushes _ . He could sense the Aes Sedai approaching but he continued to practice the form.

“You are a skilled swordsman.” The man spoke from behind him.

Arran whirled with lightning speed flowing into the  _ Courtier Taps his Fan _ , stopped his sword a hair's breadth from the man's throat. 

“Always best not to walk up behind a man practicing his sword craft.” Arran said, holding the sword at the man’s neck for a moment before turning it flat and pulling it away, flourishing it into  _ Folding the Fan _ . 

He had to say he was impressed the man had not even batted an eye. 

“Yes, that was bad form on my part,” The Aes Sedai held himself like one who had been a soldier, “I am Andrei Sedai.” 

“What Ajah?” Arran asked easing into  _ Cat Crossing the Courtyard _ stance.

“Green.” He asked an eyebrow raised at Arran’s rudeness.

“What can I do for you Andrei Sedai.” He asked turning his back on the Aes Sedai and walking away.

Andrei fell into step with him, not looking perturbed. 

“I sense you have the ability to channel.”

“Is that so?” Arran grumbled.

“I see you are aware of this,” Arran gave the man a sidelong look but didn’t answer, “You need to come back to the Tower with me. You will not last long without formal training.”

Arran chuckled, and rubbed his beard.

“I suppose you may know better than me Aes Sedai.”

“This is quite a unique reaction, Arran is it?”

“Yes Aes Sedai, Arran Lothyros. I have been surviving just fine, what makes you think that will change?”

“Without training it is only a matter of time till you hurt yourself or others. Besides you can come with me now, or wait for a Red to find you…” He said in a pleasant voice.

Arran stopped and glowered at the man for a long moment.

“Fine.” He said. 

“Excellent, I will speak with your Captain. Go gather your things. I will take you back to the Tower right away.” 

“As you say, Aes Sedai.” 

He watched the Aes Sedai stride away with purpose, Lothyros, his mother's maiden name it had been a long time since he had thought about her. 

_ ‘What are you doing Arran?’ _ Her voice whispered on the breeze.

“Surviving Blaes…” He mumbled and looked at the sword in his hands. 

There was nothing to gather; in his hands he held the only thing to take with him, everything else was buried in ash long ago. 

Arran stepped through the gateway, Tar Valon stood a white glittering behemoth of a tower against the clear blue sky. His skin prickled, someone nearby was embracing Saidar. He was going to have to get used to this, a constant most likely. 

“Awe inspiring, no?” Andrei Sedai clapped emphatically, catching his attention away from his thoughts. 

“Indeed.” Arran responded, letting a small amount of awe seep into his tone. 

He had been on Tar Valon Island more than once but had as of yet to pass through the gates that stood not far away from the travel ground where they had come through. Andrei Sedai led Arran across the grounds. Arran would have paused to watch the Warders in the yard training to take their measure, but Andrei Sedai kept walking leading him into one of the lesser buildings, opposed to the main Tower. 

Leading him through the twisting halls and stairs Andrei stopped half a hall away from a dark wooden door, the door cracked open and light spilled out into the darkening hall. 

“Becoming an Aes Sedai means to walk away from our former lives… there are some things I would not ask of someone though,” He looked at the rapier and Arran gripped his father's sword tightly, “I can keep it for you till you are raised.” He offered in a gentle tone.

His knuckles whitened on the handle, and his teeth clenched so hard his jaw aches. He had not let this sword out of his hands since he had grown big enough to wear it, not since... 

_ ‘You made me a vow... whatever it takes… _ ’ he heard her whisper in his ear. 

He unbuckled his sword belt, carefully wrapping it around the sheath and held it out to Andrei Sedai.

Andrei took it lightly and Arran released his grip on the sword hesitantly. 

_ ‘Whatever it takes…’ _ echoed in his mind. 

“Let us go see the Mistress.” Turning Andrei walked towards the door, every step a growing casym between him and all he had in the world. 

Andrei knocked on the door and pushed it in,    
“Mistress Lyrelle I have someone for you.” 

He waved for Arran to come in with him and stepped into the room. Rising from her desk Lyrelle was a small woman with large dark eyes that took too much of her face and yet somehow she was still quite beautiful, as the curling black hair cascaded over her shoulder held back away from her face with a pin. She wore a dress in the Cairhien style not that he would have needed that to tell she was from there what with the everything else about her. 

He bowed as he had been taught. She looked from him to Andrei,

“I presume you have already confirmed his ability.” She asked blandly.

“Of course Mistress.” Andrei smiled winningly at her.

She pursed her lips,

“Then I have it from here.” She stared at him expectantly. 

He bowed his head in a quick nod,

“Much luck to you Novice.” He smiled at Arran and then was strolling from the room closing the door behind him. 

Taking his fathers sword with him. He felt almost as if something inside him stopped working in that moment that the closing door parted his vision from the sword. 

“Mm my usual order of operations is always… upset when it is one of you boys.” She said, bringing his attention back to her.

He simply stared at her as much as for a lack of anything better to do as much as to unnerve her. She pursed her lips again looking him up and down putting him on a scale and measuring him. Deciding who he was. He waited. Assumption was one's greatest tool. 

She pointed to a screen, 

“Remove everything. I will find you something to wear.” She sniffed moving a dresser inset to the wall. 

He raised a brow and moved behind the screen. He had not been raised to be particularly modest but there were general rules of decency and he did prefer to abide by them. 

There was just enough minute huffs of frustration to let him know his existence was bothersome when she finally held a pair of white breeches and tunic for him. 

When he stepped from behind the screen, the soft light of Saidar hovered around her. 

_ ‘Use it to your advantage…’  _ He could hear the smile in his voice as the words whispered to him. 


End file.
